


O, Julian

by Cyrelia_J



Series: Let Me Hear [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Biological Musings, Bloodplay, Conflicted Julian, Dubious Consent, Dubious Science, Explicit Sexual Content, Garak knows everything, Genetic Engineering, Introspection, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sexual Identity, Size Kink, Sort of Omega Verse, What-If, some semi breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrelia_J/pseuds/Cyrelia_J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His genetic therapy the product of an experimental cross with alien genes, Julian Bashir has lived his life subject to heat cycles that he struggled to cope with until devising a drug cocktail to keep them under control. But on Deep Space Nine he finds one of the key ingredients to be unavailable and is forced to once again face his hated genetic aberrations head on. Luckily one Elim Garak is there to help... Julian couldn't think of a worse fate to befall him. </p><p>"Dear Father, remind me to send you a token of my esteem for the multitude of ways in which you have irreparably ruined my life..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	O, Julian

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from but once it hit I had to see it through. Sometimes I like to consider questions like the ones that come into play here. About how much we truly are defined by our genetics, our biology. What do we do and how do we reconcile the clashing of self yada yada.
> 
> And then I really wanted to marry that to a bunch of hot Garak/Bashir fucking. And then someone once suggested I write an Omegaverse Hetalia story. For those who aren't familiar with that term it's probably not properly represented here either. But that did factor hard into the direction I wanted to go with this. And then this guy I know would raid my medicine stock at work every day for Immodium to help him get off his pill addiction so thanks to him for the Loperamide research. 
> 
> I think I covered all warnings. I initially hadn't put dubcon as a warning as Julian is very much in agreement with this and is not technically unwilling but he is straight (in a sense) and there is a part of him that doesn't want this entire situation. But I did change that after getting a better perspective from a comment that you can read below if you're curious. I would definitely welcome feedback since I'm always curious as to how my experiments turn out. But mostly half of this is just raw primal fucking so yeah... Enjoy!

“Surely this has to be a mistake?” Julian looks at the screen, a worry crease between his eyes growing more severe as he switches from one window to another, both stating the same information from two different sources.

“Is something the matter, doctor?” He hears the woman behind him, Jabara, that’s her name, he recalls as he steps back from the screen so that she may see for herself. 

“That,” he points with a swallow. “That there I mean. I think there must be some mistake or some... I don’t know did the Cardassians leave this as some sort of bizarre mistake?” Nurse Jabara appears confused as she looks up, reading not half as quickly as Julian would like. “The list of prohibited and restricted substances? As I understand it, doctor, this list was compiled from both Federation and Bajoran medical regulations when the Federation took control of the station.” She has what is -in his opinion- the audacity to smile. “If we used the old Cardassian data from Terok Nor I can’t even imagine what else would be on here.” She looks over at him seeing that his face has lost none of its earlier consternation. If anything, Julian can feel the muscles bunching hard, his jaw setting tight.

“Yes but...” His voice nearly cracks. He clears his throat and starts again. “Loperamide? Loperamide is on this list.” Julian doesn’t see the necessary outrage that he would expect from any of his Federation colleagues. “Surely you must know even here of all places, Loperamide is a crucial pharmaceutical to have stocked. Every long term away mission especially to lesser developed worlds has erm... not that I...” Julian catches himself at her raised eyebrow and a rough self restraining grip to the back of his neck. “I’m not saying that you or ah... Bajor isn’t sufficiently advanced I’m just... I don’t see what you could possibly use in its stead that has even a fraction of the efficacy.” She looks at him quizzically and he knows the expression is not entirely unwarranted. 

“There are several chemically similar alternatives, Dr. Bashir I think you’ll find that even, out here of all places that there are medicines not in your databases that work just as well as an anti diarrheal. Our doctors have actually found where Bajoran physiology is concerned that it’s far easier to use ground Esani seeds steeped in tea.”

Julian swallows and forces the growing panic from his face to what he hopes is a far more normal expression. 

“Right, of course. Absolutely, you’re right.”

“Forgive me for asking, Doctor, but are you having any problems acclimating to the station? I’m quite familiar with the proper dosages even for humans if you should need-“

“No!” He yelps, practically jumping back with a furious shake of his head. “No no no issues here I assure you. Fit as a fiddle and all that it’s just... you see there are also certain off label uses that we’ve found that I... I sometimes need for research and I’m just a bit puzzled still as to _why_ it’s on there. Of course most opioids are generally only handled by trained doctors but even in _field kits_ it’s not uncommon even without a licensed physician for crew members to have a few tablets.” Julian begins to feel as if he’s rubbed the back of his neck raw. “Perhaps... I’m not... I don’t mean to be rude, “ even as he thinks he’s likely already ruined any chances with the lovely nurse, “but your doctors are aware that it cannot cross the blood brain barrier itself. I mean you could take thirty... not that you’d want to but I could right now take thirty and I’d be perfectly fine.” He can hear that ugly nervous laugh from his throat and decides no matter the outcome of what is shaping up to a be a completely enlightening but maddening conversation that he’s going to need a break.

“But that’s just it, Doctor,” and this time he thinks he detects a bit of chiding emphasis on the title, “in Bajorans it metabolizes differently but more than that there have been several deaths attributed to its abuse and even small doses can depress the central nervous system enough to have detrimental effects.” Her lips are pursed as she considered the screen once more. “Of course this has only been studied properly in the last few months from our increased contract with the Federation. The council ban only went into effect a few weeks ago. This should have been in the files they sent over but...” She sighs, and regards him soberly. “I’ll make sure you receive them first thing in the morning, Doctor. I’m sorry that you haven’t received the updated protocols.” Her smile is sympathetic. “It would have been better reading for the trip here but well... in the meantime I’ll make sure you’re properly up to date with everything you need to know.” He nods dumbly, a feeling of despair setting in. 

“Yes, a little light reading, I look forward to it.” Julian watches her leave before practically running to find Commander Sisko in the unfamiliar maze of the station.

 

By the time Julian returns even more frustrated than ever he finds a small satchel of tea waiting next to his keyboard.

 

\---

 

“A month,” Julian whispers to himself as he practically sneaks into the replimat wearing only his pajamas in the early morning. “He said it would only be a month, Julian and God why didn’t you ever think... even _consider_ the possibility that you might need to...” He swallows hard, forcing his hand away from the wall as if it were stuck with glue. That was two months ago. Julian thought that would give him plenty of time with the last dose being shortly before his assignment but... _But here you are first thing in the morning trolling the replimat like some..._ He grimaces and tries to remind himself to breathe. He knows what he looks like. He couldn’t sleep more than a fraction of a proper sleep cycle at all last night. Twenty minutes wake up, roll over, roll over, pretend that his cock didn’t feel about to burst from his body like some secondary conception and devour him. Julian shuts his eyes tightly and takes another breath, trying to remember what it’s like to walk normally. It hasn’t been that long. It should be nothing but muscle memory but in the state he’s in he knows that he’s failing terribly.

Julian swallows a yawn, getting water- pure water, nothing that could even begin to pass through his... Julian swallows again trying to hide another grimace as his stomach pangs sharply for want of food. _Three more days, Julian. It’s only been thirty six hours without food just keep drinking and remember you won’t die no matter how uncomfortable you get._ He knows after nearly killing himself with benzphetamine years ago that appetite suppressants metabolize far too quickly in safe doses. Julian sighs, drinking the water slowly, letting the ice cold soothe every feverish part of his body from the inside as he takes the seat closest to the the wall dead center. He can feel his body start to sweat but his core temperature can hold steady for at least another half day; longer if he can get away back to the cold shower. But right now under the bright lights he can feel the sweat starting again and much as he wants to cross his legs for any bit of stimulation he can’t risk dislodging the glue on the medical tape holding back the floodgates. _Bet you’re thankful you learned how to tuck it or you’d have a devil of a time even walking out here right about now._

 _Never thought you’d be doing this again, did you?_ His eyes scan the patrons that wander in assessing them, trying to affect some look of invite that won’t shame him when this is all over. _Yes hello, I’m Doctor Julian Bashir, single, handsome, just looking for a quick shag first thing in the morning. Make you breakfast and you won’t even have to spend the night._ He looks down into the cup as he takes another slow sip. He learned when the heat- that’s what Pallis had called it when it was still a fun little quirk and not a disability that he she demanded he solve- first began that it was far better to pass through the cycle on an empty stomach. _Thank you again, Father. I’ll remember to add today to my holiday update for you. Couldn’t have a stupid son now, could we? No, not at all. We had to go and mess with his genetic code, we had to contact some “old friends” of yours so they could practice their experimental codswallop until he was bright enough to be adequate._ Julian shifts again trying to keep his expression neutral. _Never mind the backwater indigents you experimented on to accelerate the neural pathways in humans had their own little genetic quirks. No, let’s not think what will happen when your perfect little Jules starts having hot flashes and going into heat like a bloody animal._

He eases his grip on the cup as he catches the eye of a beautiful Bajoran woman walking in. Julian smiles at her, and she almost looks as if she may join him with her little cup of tea, big eyes, slim waist and... And then she pauses, stopping as if some invisible magic casts its net repelling her like an enchantment out of a fairy tale. _Yes, nevermind that the pheromones poor Julian oozes off in waves repulses most human women and a good percentage of all species male and female as well. Yes, jolly good show on that one, Richard Bashir._ Julian turns his smile instead toward a young Bajoran male thinking this would be so much easier if he actually _liked_ other men that way. He feels the stir, whatever primitive longing pulsing, making his prick nearly jump from it’s bent over and taped confinement, and in spite of what his intellect says he finds himself amending that statement mentally. _Most of the time_ Julian is not attracted to other males. _Thank you, Father._ Julian hopes, dares to think that relief might be soon in coming even as his would be relief also stops, turns with a confused look, and Julian adds Bajorans to the ever growing list of repellant species. Julian sighs, ducking his head, eyes staring at the table as if he could somehow see through it.

“There there,” he murmurs to his rather artfully bound little partner in crime. “You had to know it wouldn’t be half that easy.”He drinks again and for a blissful moment closes his eyes and dreams of bangers and mash and gravy and scones and every stupid thing he can’t eat. Dormant colorectal nerve endings flaring to life spasming, contracting, stupid little extraneous things that seem to have no care of regard for the fact that he is a hundred percent human male, and not an intersexed alien with- as far as his studies on the unclassified reptilian Perseus Arm natives led him to discover- a cloaca. No, they don’t care that the constant spasming, hypersensitivity, stimulation will not in fact lead to some successful mating ritual but instead just force him to live off of purified water for the better part of a week and make him feel like some rectal centipede has crawled up there to make his life hell until properly stimulated. Of course that’s not to say he’d never considered other avenues before resorting to this humiliating display that’s one step shy of prostitution but as his own self study led him to conclude in his third year at Starfleet Academy there is a certain pheromonal complement required to trick his stupid body into thinking there’s been a successful coupling. _Merry Christmas, Father, I’d wish you impotence but right now that seems more a blessing than a curse._ He makes a note to add that to the card next year.

Julian lifts his head once more and calculates the remaining time he has until his shift starts and he gets the privilege of trying to work through what will soon become an unbearable state of arousal and need until he ends up shaming himself in the medbay or getting ousted from Starfleet altogether. _Yes, Commander Sisko, I’m sorry to trouble you again you see I know that there are other alternative anti diarrheal chemicals, Yes the Esani tea is quite effective in its main use but you see about the Loperamide, it’s not so much a matter of my bowels, though I assure you that also is quite a troublesome side effect of this delightful illegal genetic alteration but rather it’s an essential compound of the only bloody treatment that can bring this problem to a workable level so I don’t end up rutting on the lap of every poor person walking through the infirmary doors. Oh you’ll get right on that as soon as we straighten out the little matter of my genetic enhancements well right, forget I was even here, cheerio and all that crap._ Julian nearly groans and aborts an attempt to bang his forehead on the table. _Pull yourself together man, so what if it’s been years since you’ve had to do this? You’re not a teenager forced to stay home from school half sedated, you’re a grown man who can man up, find a nice looking passerby you’ll never have to see again and-_

“Doctor Bashir, what a pleasant surprise this is.” _Oh dear god no._ Julian fights the urge to shut his eyes tightly and try to blink this away like a dream. He recognizes that voice, honey dripping down his shoulders, like those hands rested so intimately once before and he nearly starts out of his seat at the sound of it. He isn’t quite sure how the Cardassian man- Garak, that’s his name- escaped his noticed as sensitive as his senses seem to be right now but he sees him circling and there’s almost a pitiable whine in his throat as he tries in that far too quick moment to decide if he should try and hold out for something far less dangerous or just... _Oh..._ He feels it as soon as he breathes in, that sensation redoubled, traveling up his spine, fissioning out from his every pore until he thinks he’ll erupt right then and there. And in a stupid brilliant moment of recollection to the few precious pages on unclassified species P-38 the word comes to him unbidden, Garak’s blue eyes catching his when his head turns sharply to the left to look up, almost damning. _Alpha_. Alpha, Beta, Omega, some Greek Alphabet soup better belonging in an old Earth fraternity than an anthropological treatise from a Federation science outpost in space. He opens his mouth in that moment to tell Garak in no uncertain terms that he is absolutely _not_ to join him but there’s some strange part of his thought to speech processing that fails him.

No, no it is not a failing, he realizes as his internal awareness makes him all too cognizant of what is happening. It is not a manipulation of the inferior frontal gyrus of the brain that he’d feared because the words come out exactly as they should from thought to speech rather it’s the thought itself that reforms in the blink of an eye to accommodate a much more genetically coded primitive biological imperative. _Omega._ The word is pulled from the pristine Cathedral in his mind indexing everything that’s ever passed his sight in those moments where despair drove him to learn more about what had been done to him. That’s what the memories say to him now from the once discarded abstract and those three syllables come in lightning fast acknowledgment that terrifies him for those precious seconds bridging realization to acquiescence. It suddenly becomes a far more driving directive than it ever has in the past and he can almost feel his heart pumping blood to every last outpost of his body. _Mate with me._ Julian feels it more than he thinks the words in a proper mental diction. He licks his lips and takes another breath. _Whatever it takes..._ He has no earthly idea what that is and it infuriates him to be so close but to know nothing of Cardassian culture, customs, anything that would help him and it makes him resent as much as it makes him desire the man still standing there with some annoying sense of expectation that he’s yet to earn. 

“For a nefarious spy, Mr. Garak, you seem to be making a rather poor showing of keeping to the shadows.” Garak hasn’t moved from where he stands to his left, looking down at Julian from a height that only seems to grow in stature the longer he lingers. He meets Julian’s waspish remark with an almost knowing smile.

“No Mister, Doctor Bashir. Just Garak.” That smile smacks of some hidden mischief and Julian holds his expression hand blindly reaching for the glass, his skin picking up that feverish heat far more quickly and intensely than it ever has in the past. _Cool down. Slow down, for God’s sake get a hold of yourself, Julian._ He feels the tips brush the cold metal and halts when Garak continues. “I see that I’ve been unsuccessful in divesting you of that... unfortunate misconception. The way you humans stubbornly cling to your lurid imaginings... Or is that perhaps only you, Doctor?” _Oh if only you knew the depth that these lurid imaginings are sinking to right now, Garak you’d probably run._ Run? That thought stops him cold, his eyes darting to the seat with sudden pounding anxiety as his thoughts scramble breaking apart. _No stay. You smell good. I like._

Julian feels his foot lift, the electric motor pulses slowly pushing the chair out across from him. He catches those eyes again almost feeling as if he should instinctually lower them but he defiantly fights that impulse, holding blue eyes to his.

“Well there’s only one way to find out isn’t there?” That smile remains expectant as if reading his thoughts and before he realizes it his eyes have already dropped back to the table as he waits. He doesn’t wait long. His enhanced hearing hones to the footfalls circling, his heart picking up two beats for each step until he sees Garak seated across from him no longer the strong towering male looking down from above. For the moment that makes it easier to think again.

“Now how could I possibly turn down an invitation to observe my target further?” Julian smiles at the obvious put on seeing the obvious opening. _Yes well, not ideal but clearly you’re not going to find a better partner falling into your lap the way he is now. It’s him or trying your luck with that Chelian in the corner eating god knows what. So help me if Cardassians have a spiked hemipenis or poisonous secretions or some other insanity that will be more than you can handle or complicate things beyond “I like you, you seem to fancy me as well” my hand over his, meaningful stare “want to go back to your quarters?”_ _I think I’ll just have to cut it of and live the rest of my life celibate._

And yet that it’s that insidious feeling of instinctive submission that insinuates itself once more before he can even begin that particular proposition. Julian’s hands fall beneath the table to his knees, his fingers nervously kneading the insides as he stares at the thick green material emphasizing broad shoulders. He grips his knees harder with a slow draw of breath trying not to close his eyes and imagining his fingers squeezing those shoulders, digging nails in, biting down with a series of near sobbing hitches as he-

“Have you been... watching me then?” His voice speaks, thick, the lingering thoughts swirling around. Julian can’t stop the flicker of his pupils up and down with a sensual flutter he’s only ever seen from across the table in the past from his female conquests. He can feel his legs tense, shaking, the muscles tense in anticipation and he only hopes his face is not flushed as it feels as those hands slide a few inches up the insides of his thighs.

It’s not long before Julian registers that the playfulness elicits quite a muted response in proportion, nothing but a noncommittal almost thoughtful sound in return. He senses that slight drop, his body picking up on the lessening heat. It’s nowhere near the same intensity radiating off as before when he gave back a biting, far more cutting flirtation. He files that away quickly and adapts. _Whatever it takes._  

“Maybe I’m not the only one with... lurid imaginings, Mister Garak. Do all Cardassians like to watch? Or is that a clandestine pleasure that is all _you,_ Mister Garak?” Julian sits back and taunts him with all the unrestrained glee of a child saying swear words on the playground. it feels good. He rubs the inside of his thigh just a slight bit, letting that tactile reward privately pleasure his heightened senses.  A light comes to Garak’s eyes, hungry, dissecting, devouring, promising as if Julian is already his, and he feels the perspiration damp of his exposed collarbone. He wants to tip his head back, bare his throat, and let Garak bite. And he hears almost like the positive reinforcement chime of some outmoded behavior modification experiment _that’s it there. That’s what you need. Get him. Push him. Do it. Me. Hard. Please. Any. Thing._

Julian forces that hand up before he takes his little foray of self gratification too far where there are still those who might be observing a bit too closely. He takes another drink that does nothing to drop his steadily rising core temperature. Julian only feels hotter under that gaze. He nearly misses his mouth in fact, a few misaligned droplets hitting his chin, dribbling messily, heating molten hot down the side of his neck until it tickles and fizzles out over his collarbone. He can _feel_ Garak’s eyes drinking in the path of that drop.

“As you stated earlier, there is only one way to find out if my interest is only in observation and _if_ I may make an observation, Doctor...” Garak leans in with all the pretense of telling him some shared secret. “You appear to be quite... wet.” _Dripping, sweating, heaving breathless, flames off the side of my face it you keep looking like you want to swallow me whole. If you talk to me in that low sensual tone..._ Julian dips his finger in the glass, imagining his finger steams the liquid if only to rationalize the haze that appears around Garak’s face from that sibilant husk. His voice is an incantation from some ancient pagan grimoire conjuring smoke, obscuring the lights, making his skin slip slick between his thighs as if he has just played a grueling racquet ball tournament.

Julian squirms in the seat sitting up before too long.

“You’ll have to pardon my condition, I’m afraid,” Julian drizzles drops the cooling balm deliberately this time warm summer rain splashing his neck. “I’ve always been somewhat... prone to these sorts of hot flashes.” He watches Garak watching him, once more his psyche committing what makes his pupils dilate, what ridges darken just enough to not be a trick of the light, but most of all what makes that echoing heat, that heady musk flare stronger. “I’m afraid I’ve never learned to tolerate the heat,” he half whispers only daring to hope that it’s enough.

“And if I refuse?” That scent catches him, making him bite back a whimper, making his palm twist flush on the table before noisily squeaking, streaking back to the glass. Julian nearly throws it in his own face as he can feel the first slip of melting adhesive.

“Then I may...” he licks his lips fidgeting with a wet water circling frequency that makes one Ferengi man’s head violently jerk to one side with a yelp. He barely pays it any mind as he sucks the wet tip, the water hot before ever reaching his lips. “I may have to properly educate you on human figures of speech.”

“Oh, I assure you, Doctor, _I_ am not the one in need of education I believe I well understand... exactly what is happening. But as for the matter of pardon... say pardon for a minor transgression, for say an awkward and embarrassing scene last week in a tailor’s shop not too far from here- perhaps you may have even heard of it- where a young man arrogantly attempts to let an aging tailor down gently. Or shall I say what he feels to be gently because and I assure you not from personal experience but as an impartial observer that if anything it came off as condescending, presumptuous and just a touch simpering, if you will only to now be asking for an indulgence when it suits him... I’ve always found forgiveness to be a gift all too freely given but rarely earned. It must be preceded by a plea, a supplication on hands and knees, lips pressed wherever they must in order to cultivate a feeling of mercy. Do you not agree, Doctor Bashir?”

Julian shifts again in his seat, his pajamas well on their way to being transformed into nothing but a sauna suit holding in heat, letting nothing escape but that nearly undetectable pheromone that makes Garak hold his gaze and flick a quick taste of the air with his tongue. Julian notices his eyes drop to half mast for one telling moment reminding him rather poignantly that the alleles used in the procedure originate from a reptilian humanoid species rather than hominid and it stands to reason as the traffic in the replimat begins to pick up and those who catch the two of them a table apart, messily, primordially slavering all of each other shoot disgusted looks, that there must be some not entirely insignificant commonality. He thanks God that the Chelian didn’t have Garak’s sense of timing. Julia also has at the same time that rare cerebral flash just long enough for that dry clinical rationality to tell him that under no circumstances should he allow this to happen. Julian’s eyes glance towards the entrance quickly. _You have no idea of the consequences. What will happen if you should end up altering the parameters of the mutation? Seminal fluid must be expelled, must coat the walls, the DNA remnants must be absorbed by the body. Accepted, acknowledged and what will happen if there is something sympathetic in them that does something irreversible to the cycles or can’t shut them off, or-_

“What if I don’t want you to be merciful?” _No no no what are you doing? Stop it... Keep looking at me like that, Garak... I can’t... God just you looking at me is too much that I... Shuttup Julian. Stop talking, stop, be silent, don’t you dare-_ “What if I want you to punish, to posses, to primitively push every piece of penance into me?” He doesn’t care that the breathy alliteration is wasted on the universal translator. He doesn’t know where the words come from. But he does know that he has never before employed such verbal vulgarity with his other partners in the past and he had not until this moment even considered that the potential was there until now. He has Garak’s full attention. He watches those ridges seem to expand, seem to grow just that fraction bigger to the naked unenhanced human eye. “What if,” he continues feeling the power to that mode of speech, “I want to see if there is more to a Cardassian male than empty words?”

Julian stops, feeling the crackle in between them hearing the answering “tsss” half hissed out softly, dangerously beneath Garak’s breath that he can only liken to a mammalian growl. Only, even picturing the most intimidating Klingon invectives that his mind can call to the forefront nothing comes close to instilling the the desire that he has to sink to the floor and rub his face over Garak’s leg in appeasement to his Alpha. He bows his head almost immediately watching the water ripple faintly in the glass, that desire almost palpable in the air, that promise of Garak crawling up his body, twisting until the two of them knot like snakes and Garak covers him, opens him up and-

“In that case, I believe this is a conversation best conducted away from station gossip and delicate Bajoran sensibilities. My shop,” he says as he stands, “is much closer than the habitat ring.” The tone is mild, suggestive at best. The undertone not. 

Julian stands immediately in response forgetting the glass, running shaking anticipatory fingers through his hair, sticky, sweat damp digits lingering over his cheeks slowly drawing down over his throat savoring the self induced tactile pleasure. He knows it won’t be long before he’s reduced to less than even this. He can sense the pleasure Garak derives in watching the unconscious action. It only increases the rush of warmth and he takes a small step back- no longer seeking direct eye contact- so that Garak can lead them both. 

“I must insist you take the lead, Doctor. I know you know the way.” It’s a command- for despite the tone, despite the easy manner in which it’s spoken he just _knows_ by instinct that it is not a suggestion- which he finds curious but he doesn’t question it. Julian nods, a soft “yes” that he isn’t certain Garak hears as he moves to leave. He takes a quick glance around relieved to see their tête-à-tête has hardly held anyone’s attention beyond a few disapproving looks from some of the station’s Bajorans and... God he catches a glimpse of Jadzia Dax- beautiful spotted goddess- giving him a small smirk, witnessing this complete humiliation with no idea that he- “ _Now_ , if you please, Doctor.” ...that he is utterly in thrall to the Cardassian who lays a hand, hot, burning broad palm to the small of his back which drives all thoughts from his head but “more”.

Julian’s body obeys quickly, pivoting on the ball of his foot his entire form feeling like mercury. He walks. And he knows as soon as he begins that his body is experiencing what his adolescent mind had long ago dubbed quicksilver. He feels as if the air itself caress his form, light, plasma heat fluid mass burning up whatever it touches. He can tell with the swaying hip toe to heel walk, shoulders back that Garak’s eyes are locked to that obscene overly sexual display but today he does not shrink back and try to force his walk to its normal masculine stride. Julian doesn’t need to shoot a look over his shoulder as he moves making sure to add just the extra bit of rock to his slim hips, the cling of the fabric moving with him, whatever sex hormone secretion that mixes with his sweat holding it flush, making it mold to him euphorically as he resists the urge to run, to sprint, to allow Garak to pursue him madly to one of the darkest areas of the storage bays and savage him hard in the blackness. He sees the swim of the Promenade, his eyes falling out of focus in exchange for the succulent insinuation of sweat trickling down the small of his back between the cheeks of his ass, half tickling, half reminding him exactly how he’s going to be used.

Julian has another flash stealing his attention as he steps in front of the locked storefront. He envisions falling to his knees pajamas sloughed like a dead unwanted skin as Garak hauls him up, shoves him to the wall and mounts him from behind for all to see. He holds the back of his own neck finding speech not easily coming to him. Garak circles him with a slowness that’s almost physically painful as he yearns for any physical contact with the teasing brush of hot breath near his ear harsh inhale exhale- he swears he doesn’t imagine it- that almost causes his knees to buckle. His nails dig in making him imagine that breath lingering, teeth biting sharply and Julian notices that in the dreamy heat driven daze his respirations have increased to near hyperventilation levels. He knows better than to try and control it. It won’t damage him. His body was remade brilliant and whether possible or not in the purest biological sense it was also made to be bred. It won’t stop. The heat won’t stop until it’s been sufficiently sated.

But Garak is not one of his usual walking fuck sticks- dear God he did _not_ just think that- and he wants this badly, his panting starting to be interspersed with “please please” pleas. He can feel himself slipping from the rational evolved man to the lustful Omega cockslave and he can’t tell if Garak can sense the takeover. Julian finds it harder to retain the clinical conscious with every base barrage of _fuck hard cock mate come_ or some variation thereof encroaching upon his proper self. He should have at least tried to explain something, make up one of the many different half truths or some arrangement, some contingency for the pull of the beast’s mindless drive but he doesn’t have time or even the proper focus for self recrimination. Two steps into the store he looks at Garak who seems as full of questions as he is lust and it takes all his focus of will to keep his body still save for the rock of one impatient leg, every bit of coiling tension rapidly firing his heel to the floor in a half bounce. 

“No.” One word, one command, simple stopping a hand he hadn’t realized he’d started to raise and Julian looks at it dumbly before moving back to dare another look at Garak. “No.” It comes again and he stops, looking at Garak’s midsection biting his lower lip hard with a soft hitch, a tight balling of his fist. “No, you may not touch me. Would you not agree that touching is a privilege that ought to be freely given?”

“Y-yes, of course.” _Pleasepleasetouch._ He’s not even sure if he was able to coherently force the words out, monosyllables likely blurring to one spastic ball of sound.

“And it is a privilege that I have not yet given you, Doctor.” _Yet._ That is what Julian hopes as he nods sharply.

“Looking is also a privilege, but it is you, Doctor that introduced me to that concept with those beautifully diverted eyes of yours.” Garak moves closer and Julian smells him sharply, feels his heat coming off and he feels about to launch into space as madly as his leg trembles harder. _touchmetouchme._ “But I like your eyes looking at me, begging silently brilliant in a way that I don’t believe your mouth can’t right now...” Julian nods. “Yes, I suspected as much. A pity, I have enjoyed the more verbal aspects of our brief acquaintance but oh... I cannot find it in myself to be to disappointed right now.”

Garak steps so close now that Julian’s eyes nearly cross focusing on the green fabric that is all his eyes can now see.  He feels at last a light fingernail lightly drag down behind his ear and it’s almost enough to make him cry out. “Yes, just as sensitive as I figured you would be. And now that we understand that touch is a privilege, Doctor, I think we can both agree that you’re hardly in a position to deny me anything are you?” A violent toss of his head in the negative and Julian shifts his weight to his other leg almost feeling dizzy. “Now that we understand each other... I’m going to ask you a few questions just to bring that understanding to completion.” Julian almost completes upon hear that word, upon realizing that Garak is whispering the words right to the shell of his ear, his voice a far more bitter tease to his nerves than his fingernail. “First question, Doctor, or rather two statements of fact proceeded by a question. Humans do not have these violent heat cycles. Humans do not give off a sweet sensual perfume as such to drive a Cardassian male as mad with desire as you are right now. _You,_ are not entirely human, are you, Doctor?” Julian shakes his head again. his neck tense, eyes closed tightly as two nails this time scrape behind his ear and down his neck with more pressure and he almost sobs, nearly turning his body to rub against Garak.

“Oh no, not yet, Doctor, I’m afraid that in spite of the lovely picture of visceral desperation that you present, in spite of that fact that...” his voice drops lower, half another hiss that makes Julian swallow his breaths and stop time to euphoric spots as hard as he concentrates on keeping his eyes shut, “...I am a hair’s breadth from ripping these ocularly offenseive garments from your person and spilling into your all too willing vessel as many times as I desire, there is one small matter the unrepentant realist in me cannot help but make mention of...” Julian hears blood pounding, he feels dizzy, he feels the words spoken against his skin before Garak moves, not breaking their bodily contact but rather swinging serpentine behind him, hands on his shoulders just as they’d been the first time they’d met weeks ago. “I imagine,” Garak breathes into his ear from behind, his arms encircling Julian’s, one over his chest neatly squeezing his breath out like a boa constrictor, the other lower on the waist, hard, possessive, trapping him flush against Garak’s body. Julian can feel the cloth of Garak’s clothes- his own thin soaked through bedclothes barely worth a mention- thick velvet like material keeping him from feeling what he so desperately wants. He holds as still as his body will allow nonetheless, Garak content to just squeeze, trap, until every breath becomes a fight through mouth, a frustrated filter of air through a straw it seems but it allows his focus to come back enough to clearly hear him. 

“I imagine that were it not for this puckish biological idiosyncrasy of your ancestry you and I would not be standing here like this now or ever. Am I correct in that assumption, Doctor?” Julian hesitates, lacking the focus of mind, lacking even then the will for deception before answering.

“Yes.” A chuckle, a dark deep ironic rumble to the side of his neck that makes Julian whimper. 

“Then, last question, Doctor, am I also correct in assuming that- especially in light of that offensive ‘let’s just be friends’ monologue you feebly sputtered out before fleeing like a deflowered little chambermaid- you had not intended for this delightful little quirk of yours to come to light in such a manner if ever?” Another squeeze, another constraint nearly lifting him off the floor and the struggle for breath causes him such blood trapping lightheadedness that he cold pass out and come both at the same time.

“Yesss...”

“Ohh...” an exhilarated breath in Julian’s ear followed by a soft “How delightful. How utterly- if I may make use of another of your delightful human idioms- perfect to see you so hoisted by your own petard, Doctor. Or I suppose in this case hoisted by _my_ petard. Yesss, I believe I shall have you look, Doctor. Look at me and keep looking. I would hate for you to forget for even a second what you are and who you are with.” Julian opens his eyes quickly coming out of the darkness, the dim light in the store still blinding, still dizzying and he feels himself drop only to have Garak bracing his body up with no strain of muscle at all. _Strongsostrongyesyestakeme._

“Yes, you cannot even _stand_ without me now, can you, Doctor?” Julian feels his legs like jello, his equilibrium turned on its head and he hears, believes every word spoken to him. Julian shakes his head gasping softly something incoherent to even himself as Garak squeezes him harder again, strong fingers pushing down to ribs as Julian gasps, feeling finally the last of the tape coming unglued, his cock, his balls, everything feeling as if it’s turning inside out when it releases, the blood rushing hard, heavy, his constrained sex uncoiling, pressing out quickly against his pajamas with a ferocity that makes him open his mouth wide to scream. Only the arm around his chest adjusts to bear all of his weight on its own while blunt fingers are shoved into Julian’s open mouth and nearly choke him. Garak is not gentle as he presses past Julian’s tongue trapping it down, silencing him. “You scream when I tell you to scream, Doctor. Now strip.” He pulls his hand back, Julian letting his tongue tap his palette, taste, commit the essence of Garak’s fingers, of the taste of him in his mouth and it is in the course of running his tongue over his teeth that he falls to the ground, legs boneless, arms barely catching on the floor. 

But not before his teeth bite into his tongue making a hand come up to his mouth quickly, palm soon pulling away dark with thick iron rich blood.

“Oh my my you really _must_ be careful, Doctor.” Julian looks up at him and back to his fingers and remembers above all that he’s still dressed when Garak ordered him to be naked. “You humans are so painfully delicate, aren’t you?” Julian licks the corner of his mouth, tongue stinging, swollen slightly, and wipes a red five fingered trail over his neck with a quick defiant shake of his head. He sloppily and furiously unbuttons the top. “Yes, that’s a good boy. Just leave it. Now...” Julian looks up from his hands and knees, knees parted, hands behind his back as he twists his fingers around each other thinking to do nothing but breathe hard and wait, not daring to beg but to offer up the picture of his wanting, of his desire; his cock hard, and dark with blood, his desire growing in spite of or perhaps if he’s to be honest because of the pain. He doesn’t touch it but instead looks to Garak expectantly with a soft trembling bounce, hands moving, kneading his ass before coming back around to his stomach, letting his hands tease a ring of fire around his body, enticing, highlighting his smooth skin, slick with a sheen of perspiration. A distant part of him sarcastically thanks his father for the genes causing some bizarre bodily alopecia that affected any future hair growth that he didn’t already have as a child.

But it seems to please Garak now, Julian’s skin golden and untouched by any hominid furring. He makes sure he puts himself on full display for his Alpha about to claim him, hands crawling over his flat stomach, his chest, a few soft hitches that is far more akin to the soft encouraging grunts of an ancient humanoid than modern man. 

“Oh yes...” Garak murmurs as Julian half gasps a sharp “please” when his hands roam over his inner thighs and he can barely pass the words without a whimper.

“Pleasepleaseplease” comes out as “peas” or truncated further to a “pspspsps” whisper as he tries to lick back blood and swallow it down, the stimulation keeping platelets from proper operation. But beyond the blood he smells, he scents that desire washing over him, pre sex musk filling his nostrils thickly.

“Yes if ever there was a time when fortune favored my being the only Cardassian left here...” Garak’s voice is not as refined, the edges growing more rough, more choked and Julian watches his hands go to the fastenings of his collar. He stops his own motions with a quick eager bob of his head. _Show please need need hot._ He wants that completion, that violation and he begs again “Pspspsps” lips awkwardly spitting a few red drops from his lips that Garak watches and shivers visibly stopping his motions. “Go to the dressing room, Doctor,” He says eyes blatantly, greedily roaming over Julian’s body and he sees those hands start to shake and almost thinks to defy him, to tempt further, but he feels the hair of his nape prickle, feels the weight of that desire come down upon him again thick and humid in the air as he only imagines what Cardassia must feel like. He doesn’t know if it’s a trick of his synapsis or some other ancient instinct when he feels that but Julian is quick to obey, starting to rise when Garak raises a hand. “On your knees. Crawl. Crawl for me, Doctor. The middle  dressing room.” His voice wavers; Julian can hear the restraint, the control starting to crumble and he obeys without question.

He does not move quickly though, as he hears Garak swear softly fumbling with fastenings he must have worked a million times, Julian makes sure to crawl slowly, long fingers steeped, the lower half of his body dropping so that he can show Garak every slim sinewy muscle working. He nearly shuts his eyes each time his cock slides along each alternating leg he feels the tip pearling slick sticky precum dribbling, dotting the sensitive skin with it, swollen glans smacking, rubbing and he has to stop at least once to catch his breath, panting, eyes to the ground, fingers curling into the hard flooring. Julian swallows blood, coppery salty tang down his throat and it’s then that he catches sight of himself through the open curtain of the large fitting area, shoulders tense as he stares on all fours already looking like a debauched and ravaged mess. He can see the stain of red around his mouth and he moves another crawl, another graceful quick movement of shoulders, a wild cat on the Abyssinian about to be mounted and he looks up, about to sit back on his feet seeing Garak behind him stalking, almost shaking himself and it’s then he realizes the iron control is slipping harder and further and it makes his entire body hot seeing the prowling Cardassian, come up behind him and he lowers on his elbows automatically and spreads his knees wide drawing thick heavy breaths. _Wantmetakemefuckme_

Julian’s head turns to the side realizing that the curtains dividing the rooms are being drawn back, another series of mirrors, until he only sees his own reflection and Garak sinking to his knees behind him, He opens his mouth and hisses abruptly when he’s grabbed roughly by the skin on the back of his neck- a scruff he never realized was even there- his head pulled back until he sees in the front mirror Garak’s torso, chest wide, heavy with muscle, a covering of gray ridges over his pectorals flushed a dark frame highlighting strong muscles. He sees Garak’s face secondary and a smile that’s obviously desirous and predatory at once. Garak’s hand slides under his chin clutching his head back forcing him to watch them both, that larger body against his, Garak’s cock pressed to him from behind. Julian’s body is tense, he feels the large head teasing down the crack of his ass already starting to split him apart and he doesn’t know how it’s ever going to fit. _Shoveitmakeitfuckmefuckmefuckme._ He revels in that thought, the more obscene his thoughts grow the hotter it makes him, panting hard once more wanting to push back hard.

“Yes, that’s it, Doctor. Just watch. I’d hate for you to forget who it is you’re allowing to take you, to mount you to... fuck you,” Garak half growls the vulgarity against the skin of his neck. Julian whines softly and nods his head up down fast, neck a quick snap as Garak releases him. _yesfuckyesfuck._ He braces himself to take the full force of being entered when he feels Garak’s hand on his shoulder holding him steady and as he sees the look of lusty focus for as long as it takes to start pushing into him. It’s only then he belatedly realizes that the surgical lube in his pajama pocket is... is not required whether by some preparation or some difference in Cardassian biology when he feels the head of Garak’s cock slick, warm, and his body yields with surprising ease even without the benefit of any stretching. But it’s always been that way when the heat, when the animal, that secondary hateful set of genetics forces its way to the forefront and only serves as a reminder as Garak sinks in slowly- too damn slowly- that as far as the genetic resequencing is concerned his body has not been modified to accelerate his neural pathways, to be a brilliant machine capable of incredible intellect but a bitch made to be bred like this on his knees panting, half sobbing as Garak continues pushing into him slowly too slowly, _fasterneedfaster_ Julian struggling to push back only to realize not only is Garak’s hand keeping him from presumably behind flung into the mirror when he moves but also to keep him still.

Julian sighs heavily, swears something under his breath that he himself doesn’t know what as he watches the mirror, watches his open mouth that he couldn’t close if he wanted to, his jaw clenched tight, his own face flushing darker- not gray but copper dark- as Garak groans behind him. Julian flexes his hands, tries to remember to breathe with any sort of sense of rhythm, the extraneous nerves flaring wickedly, wildly to life making him feel every ridge God yes there was a series of faint upraised texture ringing round like some heavenly studded pleasure device, every inch of thickness, of girth and he can feel a series of half stoppered gasps catching in his throat as Garak goes deeper, gets bigger. And lacking sight it feels to his body as if that cock stretches some endless span determined to sink, to fill him until his body can’t take any more. 

“Oh... Oh yessss yes are _are_ taking it all, Doctor,” Garak praises voice thick behind him and it makes Julian duck his head out of embarrassment until that imperative _yesgiveitallgiveitall_ overrides everything but pleasure that the Alpha behind him is pleased. Head raised back Julian watches, eyes distant, that thick fog like some ancient primordial jungle back in full force and he’s not sure what sound leaves his throat to pass his lips but whatever he says it’s the key to everything his body is aching for.

“Yesss...” He hears some sibilant untranslated hiss that he imagines is some Cardassian epithet that the translator doesn’t quite catch and as soon as the word passes Garak’s lips Julian feels him shift on knees behind him, hips moving, pulling out slowly, again every curve, every sculpted topographical ridge slides between the tight clench of his hole and Julian prays that Garak will- _“_ Hardhardpleaseplease...” comes rushing out, the closest he can manage trying to convey a long bitter explanation of how he’s different, how he’s not human, how no matter how hard Garak uses him he can take it- will fucking love it- needs it and he feels a moment of stillness like silence before the freefall of space and Julian almost screams when Garak slams back into him hard, the sharp smell of sex suddenly hitting him full force at the same time and if it didn’t steal his breath the force, the loud hard _smack_ as he feels cock driven in one rough stroke all at once, would have surely hard him screaming to the heavens or the wormhole aliens or whoever else may hear a million hallelujahs. He doesn’t quite see the painted ecstasy on his face for the moment that his eyes shut in bliss, he only feels a rough squeeze to his shoulders as Garak’s body covers his once more, hot, subtly scaly skin sliding over his sweaty back rubbing Garak’s scent over him.

“Tell me you can take it all, Doctor. I don’t doubt it but... from your own mouth... tell me... tell me...” a small hard rock of his hips that makes Julian gasp again, watching the both of them, watching Garak tremble, watching seconds from oblivion inducing hard fucking Julian chokes out, “yesmoremoreany...” Anything he wants to say but he can feel the pulse, the slight promising pulse of strong muscle flexing and all that remains is a faint breathy whisper of joy with Garak chuckling darkly in his ear before that hand on his should tightens in earnest, probably bruising - _yesmarkme_ \- and Garak snaps his hips again harder than Julian ever imagined possible. His own strength isn’t enough to hold him but Garak keeps that grip and moves again with a groan. Julian sees his eyes watching, seeing them watching the pleasure he can’t hide. Garak moves again, even harder, faster, the smacks to his ass getting to some crazy hyper beats per minute that he can’t even hope to keep track of or match.

Except that he does. Julian struggles not to toss his head wildly and scream but he finds that unlike his past encounters his voice leaves him, his usual vociferations failing to do more than breathe. Not until Garak says he can scream. Breathing is all he can do as the sensation of Garak filling him, fucking him hard really does nearly fuck the breath out of him, beautiful spots swimming again only now his eyes are open and he sees the flex of muscles, of Garak’s bicep tense, holding onto him, nearly lifting his upper body off the floor as he moves, whispering encouragement and Julian has never come from being fucked in the ass alone even at his most needy peak but whatever Garak hits, whatever tightly wound places inside him that he fucks wide open Julian can feel himself getting tight, clutching, clenching, feeling his sac start to draw up, tighter, trembling and he imagines without seeing the head of his cock furiously drizzling the floor below them sticky and wet and he pretends his own cock is as wet as Garak as he feels the stick of his cock head to his stomach when Garak lets go of his shoulders and instead grabs both hips with strong broad palms.

Julian had no idea of the strength Garak possessed, his unassuming demeanor fooling him completely but he knows now. Whether by some release of primitive adrenaline driven strength or years of conditioning, Garak holds him tight, not so much slapping his hips to Julian’s ass as he pulls Julian’s lighter body backwards like a doll, fucking him harder, sweat mounting between their bodies the slaps turning to wet sand squelching almost like suction. And if Julian thought he was having trouble breathing before he definitely has to swallow and try to remember inhale exhale until he decides it doesn’t matter if he passes out or not because his body is already floating, singing, and his hands no longer grip the floor between thrusts, between grunts, growls, epithets, whatever noise behind Julian that blurs to static as he hears his own pulse in his ears beating frantically, his palm pounding the rhythm like a primitive drumbeat spurring Garak to match that wild staccato.

“More…” he doesn’t know how he gets the word past his constricted throat but he does, so close, so damn bloody close to completion that he thinks he just needs another second, another thrust, but every other punishing fuck, every bruising ride, squeeze to his hips as that monster cock opens his wider, harder leaves him teetering, leaves him wanting, begging, until finally he feels Garak’s hands still, feels hot seed being spilled into his body and he whines, nearly cries, seeing Garak’s face behind him eyes shut, holding him there as if he would do anything but let him spend every last drop inside his body. It makes Julian shiver, it makes his entire body move almost boneless, hearing Garak gasping softly behind him a prayer to whatever gods Cardassians worship and he looks questioning, can he dare? Is he allowed to-

“Oh we’re far from finished, Doctor,” Garak promises as he circles his thumb around the sensitive ring of Julian’s hole. He pushes it in, pushing come out that Julian feels running down the inside of his right thigh messily the more Garak plays with him and the more he unconsciously pushes out in turn.

“But are you still so ready?” Garak teases, going from breathless to steel in less time than it takes Julian to process the words. He cranes his neck behind him on shaky arms, the mirror no longer enough; he wants to looks Garak in the eyes directly. Julian starts the answer as Garak exchanges his thumb for two fingers twisting them inside, the lingering massive stretch not clenching him tight around them but it causes a far more sensitive light brushing that leaves him unable to do anything but nod. That reminds him rather painfully how great his need is, his body still sensitive, taking in the ache in his knees from the floor, the rub of his palms, as he nods his assent with a gasp of “yes.” And Julian hears a soft sigh as Garak removes his fingers, one long sensuous lick, tasting Julian, tasting himself, as if suckling the last bit of Idanian spice pudding from the digits happily. Julian watches him longing to touch him, dying to pounce, to rub, to rut, to lock their naked sweat bodies together and grind out a fantastic orgasm against Garak’s hard cock rapidly swelling anew.

Julian can feel his eyes get wide, maybe comically so when he sees the length, the girth of the monster that was inside of him at half mast and he swallows hard wondering if it was just some imagined trick that Garak had pounded him so ruthlessly with the entire length of it. But the second that initial wonderment passes it is replaced by another tightening in his groin, another wave of heat which makes him licks his lips hungry, needy, wanting nothing more than to be impaled again. He files away in a far clinical corner of his academic mind the slit from whence it protrudes, the slick wet film that’s more than just Garak’s come and the lack of feel, the lubrication makes a sort of brilliant sense. It also makes his primitive mouth practically water, saliva mixing with blood tang that he once more swallows down, catching on the side mirror the red streaks drying down his neck from his earlier open mouth panting. 

“But how should I have you now?” Garak murmurs out loud eyes raking over Julian’s naked body, the far off look flickers across his face, eyes distant for just a fraction to leave Julian to imagine any number of innumerable positions that Garak could take him. And even the thought of him holding him down and taking him again like this makes the blood circulating wildly keep his body hot, the warm store only adding to that unbearable heat and humidity and Julian sits back, tipping his head back, looking up catching his breath as best as he can feeling the come leak out of him more quickly when he does. It’s then his eyes catch sight of his reflection once more and he sees the uncovered mirror of the ceiling one last curtain having receded and it’s in the mirror that he watches Garak leans towards him and mouth his neck fastening to the sticky blood, sucking, biting, making Julian tilt his head not caring how deeply he marks him, his hand tracing over his sore hips deliciously delirious as he replays again perfectly every image in the mirror, every sensation of Garak filling him and head back, throat bared he can feel warmth, heat anew on his neck as he’s once more pulled flush to Garak from behind.

But this time it’s not that hateful thick clothing that he feels but hard cock, rubbing, sliding up and down the crack of his ass promising again that he’ll be ridden hard. Julian can feel his skin pierced with more than two vampiric puncture marks but with multiple scrapes, skin sucked dark blood welling in drops across his trapezius and he moans pitifully with another soft “please.” _Needyoumoredon’tstop._ That please turns into him biting his tongue again in that same spot, reopening the wound thinking that if Garak likes the blood, if the blood is the cause of Garak’s arm encircling his waist, fondling between his legs and rotating his palm hard, rub, squeeze over his cock, stretching foreskin back, over the head making him thrust his hips up into each rough handling… Julian turns his head, looking at Garak pushing the dark blood out from between his like as if it might spill forth in a hemoglobin waterfall and he half screams against Garak’s mouth when he head is turned, cock squeezed tightly- too tight that it holds back the flood and Garak kisses him rough, hard, sucking his tongue with a low rumbling in his throat, from his chest that Julian feels vibrating against his naked back. 

He only barely stops his hand from coming up to tangle in Garak’s hair and force their mouths to seal closer together. Instead he slaps his palm hard to his leg, nails digging into his thigh scraping, scratching his skin as Garak’s tongue twines around his, lapping at his lips, teeth nipping the corner of his mouth hard, soft tongue cleaning him with quick flicks that make Julian squirm as much as he’s able rocking forward into Garak’s rough palming of his cock, backward, feeling that hardness pressing more insistently against him as once more Garak takes his mouth, tongue probing, breathing air back into his lungs that he inhales, feeling his chest flutter and his heart make a double time beat, his eardrums beating more blood, toes curling as he arches his back when Garak pulls foreskin, tugs it over the head of his cock circling, playing with his slit and Julian almost feels about to fly over the edge drawing closer, breathing back into Garak swapping saliva, breath, blood that Garak laps at eagerly before slapping a hard palm to Julian’s cock that makes him jump, yelp, teeth biting Garak’s tongue in turn breaking delicate skin.

Julian draws back, watching eyes flickering not quite anxious, expectant, wanting to taste more than anything else that desire coming to the forefront and as if sensing it, Garak smiles at him and pulls his mouth back again even more fiercely than before. Julian kisses him back, head turning, tasting Garak’s palette, blood that’s salty but not quite as thick, thinner, sweeter, and Julian licks it from his lips their tongues tapping, stinging pulses together bloody sticky swabs that leaves his mouth messier, wet, sloppy and Garak grins at him ferally eyes bright blue in the dim lighting almost seeming back lit with energy as he leans in a sharp tug of teeth to Julian’s earlobe. 

“So eager, so willing, so desperate to get what you want. You’re going to have to work for it, Doctor.” Garak lets go of him, sitting back, Julian nearly falling forward with the loss of his weight and he turns, seeing Garak laying back expectantly. “Ride me,” is all he says, fist stroking his thick cock, milking sticky wet precome from the tip as he watches Julian on hands and knees eagerly crawling up his body.

Julian’s long fingers touch that skin, running over the planes of his stomach feeling muscles tense, quiver beneath him and he fans them out, kneading that hard muscle eagerly, excited to finally be able to touch, to rub against him, Julian shamelessly letting his cock drag, rub his scent over Garak’s hip as he dips his head, lets his tongue lave a wet red streaked trail across Garak’s chest, feeling those ridges surrounding his pectorals, tracing, watching Garak squirm, feeling him buck and he can’t help but dip his head to bite, repositioning himself, straddling strong hard thighs as he takes one more indulgent moment to commit to tactile memory, serpentine skin, smooth, a faint flutter of delicate scales more dense at the ridges near but and so sensitive Julian can’t help but let his teeth drag, bent almost impossibly at the waist to accomplish such a feat. He stops, nearly at Garak’s cock, the tip hitting his chin, his finger swiping sticky mess to taste with a flutter of his eyelids and a heady moan and seeing nothing but dark heavy eyes penetrating he ducks his head letting Garak see just how very flexible his Frankensteined body truly is, taking the head into his mouth nearly doubled in half, teeth scraping as his jaw struggles to stay open wide enough-

“Enough…” He hears Garak’s voice ragged and he nods, not considering beyond the now, beyond the voice, beyond his prick which rubs against Garak’s dwarfed in size though no slouch in its own right.

“Yes, of course,” he finds his voice thick, words half blurring together and though he’s positive he could come just by rubbing, just by letting his body be drug, naked and wanting over Garak undulating, writhing beneath him, he finds the thought of being filled once more to be far too exciting. Julian moves those precious few inches, taking greedy hold of the thick base of Garak’s thick cock. It’s heavy, hot in his hand and he lets himself just squeeze a hard up and down feeling hot fluid clear, not quite come sticky translucent slick down like a warm lava flow that he watches with aroused fascination. But only for a moment before he lifts up on his knees, long legs letting him hover, slowly sit back and savor every inch once more being slowly pushed back in not half as much a stretch as before but… “Ohhh…” He sighs dizzy, dreamy, looking down at Garak watching him making sure to keep watching, his thighs locked, muscles carefully letting him lower slow, slower, a torturous pace that starts to torture him almost as much the further down he sinks.

Julian’s head is thrown back, the ceiling mirror half disrupting his orientation but it’s a fascinating erotic sight to watch, him straddling Garak, slender figure seemingly all limbs laid out, knees bent and he brings his hand to his mouth lapping languidly, quickly turning heated once more as he tastes Garak on him, in him, and he feels an insistent pulse thick blood engorged veins wrapped with a faint layer of ridges, rough, ribbed like the lines of an ancient oak writhing inside him making him squirm hands rubbing down his body, until they fall back down to Garak’s abs. Those stomach muscles quiver beneath his grip and Julian digs his nails in once more, scratching hard as he moves, a small subtle squirm that’s just enough to remind him of the monstrous manhood seemingly swelling even larger inside of him. Julian can feel the sweat of his forehead to the forefront as it drip drops and he moves again with a strangled gasp, a groan that thrums heat up his spine, this position even more deep than he ever thought possible. 

And it’s then that Garak takes his knees and pushes them apart spreading his legs even wider, forcing him down deeper, no more than a few precious millimeters but he feels it nonetheless thinking however deep Garak needs to drive inside of him it’ll never be enough, that he’ll open himself up as wide as he has to so he can just _feel_ that-

“Can you do it… as hard as necessary, Doctor?” Garak asks with another hard squeeze his hands suddenly on Julian’s hips, “Can this frail, not entirely human body possibly satisfy me?” Garak tilts his hips, Julian meeting the challenge, the piercing penetrating pressure with a growl, a feral baring of teeth, and a hard slap to that smooth, gray skin and he moves. Julian almost screams, rocking, the awkward motion hitting another awkward angle that still somehow manages to hit him, rub delightfully, and he draws his thighs together, body tight, taut, a springboard coiling and firing off quick, faster, up down, meeting each punishing buck of Garak’s hips with an answering heavy freefall particle accelerator smashing atoms into space like quantum fury rushing into a thousand anatomical explosions. And Julian watches- not the mirrored dopplegangers but Garak beneath him and he grins viciously, before leaning in to bite at Garak’s mouth, stilling just long enough to let their tongues clash violently, the rocking rolling bodies nearly slamming their faces together one half head turn turning teeth to scrape lips and bang each other with a growl, another sensual swapping of spit and blood.

 Julian’s hands messily, unapologetically tangling in Garak’s hair which has along the way lost its careful coif, messy strands coming undone to thread between Julian’s fingers as he tugs, moans and feels the heat rising the room to steaming between them when Garak moves his strong hands to Julian’s back and rolls them both over leaving them joined, biting, sucking the color to his neck in large red swells of sore abused skin. Julian loves it. 

“Now you may scream, Doctor.” 

Julian doesn’t even try to hold back the loud guttural sob when Garak holds the backs of his thighs, bends knees easily to either side of his head and buries in hard, no longer seeming to doubt Julian’s endurance, his flexibility, or anything else as he continues fucking him. Julian’s back scrapes the floor, head almost out of range of the top mirror close to the wall as he looks up just long enough to the reflective surface to see the strong muscles of Garak’s broad back flex, hunched over him, that friction building between them as leans down, desperately pressing against his mouth a command of “Look at me, Doctor.” So close it nearly makes Julian cross-eyed but he obeys. He feels his cock rubbing Garak’s stomach with every furious motion and the faster, harder, more desperately Garak uses him he feels the pull to shut eyes, pull hair, scratch, claw, cling getting stronger until he’s not entirely sure which actually happens and which he only imagines, his throat warbling a loud series of frantic indecipherable cries.

The only real unimagined constant is that cock, throbbing, reaching, opening him up, his body all too eagerly accepting every smack, every wet sticky push toward completion and Julian heedless of his actions pulls Garak’s hair harder, clutching, feeling himself falling not about to slow as Garak claims him and batters his busted open hole with fervor that borders on fanaticism. And Julian pushes back, pushes up, feeling Garak push as deep as he can stand, slow, buried to the root feeling that heavy pulse throb pushing out of hot come and he moves one tangled arm, whimpering, face buried in Garak’s shoulder as he rubs off his own messy completion, Garak’s stomach pressing down on his cock trapping it only tight enough to make that delicious friction build to a crescendo of heat pooling at that one singular focal point and a soft whisper of “shitshitGarak” as he comes what seems an endless river of come until his body loses all strength. His legs slowly let down only to stop, knees on either side of Gark’s hips with a pressing squeeze of his thighs that last little spurt, letting his nails draw one final scratch, back arching, muscle protesting as he feels a slide of semen around over in out and he cannot help but think as his breaths begin to slow and he continues to stupidly hang on that he must look completely-

“Ravishing, Doctor,” he hears Garak purr to his ear as he lets go, one bicep strained to complete soreness he’ll need to address later. “I must say that your bedside manner is utterly impeccable.” Julian blinks a few times seeing skin embedded under nails, seeing blood but thankfully nowhere of any concern as his feet his the ground and Garak sits back fastidiously grabbing for a cloth hanging that Julian hopes isn’t terribly expensive. He cannot quite reconcile the absurdity of the picture, already his eyes blinking, looking over Garak’s shoulder with an icing lance of nerves toward the all too visible- if still darkened- shop floor. He sees no one, his own internal chronometer still shot, still electrons firing off in his head and he immediately thinks of a million different ways to try and explain that he’s still straight, that he absolutely meant what he said the other day and that he- _yoursyoursyours_ …that he apparently belongs to Garak now if his biology has any say in it and he pulls his knees to his chest, burying his face not caring that he’s a giant ball of sticky wicky mess. 

“I’m afraid this may become somewhat of a routine,” he mumbles into his knees, already feeling Garak’s hand reaching out either that same cloth or its twin towards him. Julian grabs it and balls tightly in his fist. He shifts, feeling the aftershocks of sensation, of being split, covered, and he looks up not sure why but afraid for one irrational moment convinced that Garak may have shifted in his memory to some nightmare creature about to feast on his blood. He touches his tongue to his palette feeling the tender wound with a wry inward smile. Perhaps that one may not be so far from the truth.

“I’m sure you’ll come to find in time, Doctor,” Garak says with a pragmatism that Julian finds comforting, sitting down next to him in nude twin indignity, “That biology… that genetics… all those atomic building blocks we decry as standing in the way of our free will are a far more powerful force than you would ever imagine.”

“And what would plain, simple, Garak know of the fabric of say... a man?” Julian wipes his mouth, wincing at the soreness threatening to come to the forefront at the nerves slowly start to ebb back and numbness fades him to his homeostatic physical state. There is a part of him, or rather he recognizes an important past tense- _was_ a part of him that used to end such encounters as these longing for the soft comfort of a woman’s breast, of a soft lap to rest his head in, even the familiarity of more simpatico dermis when he’d fall into bed with a species farther removed from his own. His mind grasps unsuccessfully to hold onto that recollection, that emotion of longing, to force it to the present the way that he can so many memories that his brain accepts as part of his present self. But Julian finds that it has strangely faded like a distant star growing more faintly in the background. He lacks the ability to force his emotion state to so much as regret that change and wishes he could have somehow managed a brain scan in real time, not quite understanding how any part of his enhancements could still be changing him after so many years.

“I _am_ an expert in fabrics, Doctor,” Garak answers with infuriating aplomb. Julian sighs and lets himself sink down just another few inches so that he can rest his head to the side on Garak’s shoulder. That is the action- never before experienced- that suddenly seems instinctive, familiar, and it makes him wonder how much of himself could be easily erased at a moment’s notice, with the rewiring of just a few electrical patterns. _Oh you know the answer to that, Julian, you could wake up as anything tomorrow if you so desired._ The ridges of Garak’s shoulder, paled back to gunmetal gray rest alien beneath his cheek and he rubs against them with a contemplative expression staring at the mess on the floor. _Humans do not possess the necessary scent glands in their cheeks to mark him like this, you know._ Julian nods to himself considering that such a sudden and dramatic shift in some of the deepest defining tenants of his self could not possibly be enduring without a proper medical explanation. _But really, Julian, you have the explanation. You understand it. You accept it. You have no choice, after all but to accept it since that’s the survival mechanism of whatever they did to you all those years ago rather neatly seating itself into a much more equitable position in your body’s autonomy._

Julian wants to laugh but finds the necessary emotion lacking for that as well. _If I get away from you now would it make a difference, Garak?_ He turns his face breathing in deeply the scent of Garak’s skin, woody something akin to cinnamon that also smells strangely of himself. One quick bionic glance along the body, back to the face which looks ahead rather than at him and in spite of the heat passing, in spite of the overwhelming mating call ebbing back to a shallow pool lapping at his consciousness he feels desire stirring once more far too quickly to come from anything other than his true self and he finds the answer to his question. He isn’t sure that he able to properly process how that makes him feel or if he’ll every be allowed that opportunity. Julian also realizes the last few minutes he’s been uncharacteristically quiet, but he finds none of his usual nervous chatter comes to him to fill the silence. It’s allowed him a rare time to make practical use of the enhancements at the root of this mess to begin with. His assessment also leads him to realize that Garak has let a contemplative silence lapse between them as well and Julian wonders if that’s normal for his behavioral parameters. Something tells him that it’s likely not.

 _Do you know now? Do you feel that anything’s changed between us or had all that passed for you once the act was completed? No, surely he couldn’t possibly know anything beyond a few intelligent guesses and you’d be a fool to let someone who’s at best a spy, at worst an enemy ever know they have that sort of hold over you. Well you better say something, Julian, and a bunch of nervous stammering right now is hardly where to start._ Though there are a million possibilities that parse through his head as he allows himself in that odd afterglow to just exist as his own limitless potential, he finds only one that readily comes to him. _I’m yours, Garak. Bloody ironic, that. Good job, Father. Good job in totally making a mess of my life for the millionth time. Merry Christmas, my esteemed parents I hope this missive finds you well. You’ll be happy to know that due to a series of unfortunate events that can only come to explain the sum of my life up until now I’m apparently forever doomed to fulfill the presdestined biological path laid out decades ago and become the minion of a cruel alien despot…_ He feels Garak idly start to towel off his neck and sighs once again. Okay, perhaps not so despotic after all.

“Please... just call me Julian.”


End file.
